


Quality Assurance

by SparrowPixie



Category: RK800 - Fandom, connor - Fandom
Genre: CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Deviants (Detroit: Become Human), F/M, Post-Battle for Detroit (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2019-03-16
Packaged: 2019-07-14 00:56:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16029668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SparrowPixie/pseuds/SparrowPixie
Summary: In a revolutionized Detroit, Deviant Connor is finding adapting difficult. Dark thoughts of existentialism and new emotions cause him confusion; until Cyberlife sends in Eleanor Calvin. A robot psychologist with a connection to Connor's past that he can't seem to recall. She approved him knowing he would turn Deviant. Will Connor find out? How will he react? What will happen when he develops unknown feelings for her?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do have another Detroit fanfiction, but I find that my heart is only in that one at very specific times. This fanfiction is one I frequent, but I do intend on finishing my Reader/Connor fanfiction 'Deviant Nature' as I do have an outline. For now I bring you my second outlined fanfic, but while it does have a plot already I leave it open to YOU the reader to help decide some of the twists and turns the story will take. That's right, my outline is Detroit style with many different paths for what YOU decide in the comments. Enjoy!  
> PS- This scene is heavily based on the playstation demo 'Kara' but for a good reason. Promise.

_Prologue_

_YOU_

It was a simple job. Approving androids. Quality assurance. Testing to see if they were 'functional.' An easy enough task. A substantial paying occupation. Your mentor had trained you well. This was useful when, like so many, your major in college had proven useless when you had finally chosen a career. Well, not completely useless. Androids had always been at the core of your interest. It had began to with Gabrielle. Your family's AX400. Your interactions with her had prepared you more than college for a career involving Cyberlife androids.

This android was different though. A prototype. Approving prototypes had never been a part of your job description. Not until the RK800 whose program of psychological analyzation happened to be your specialty. 

Before your eyes you watched the android be assembled. Each piece attaching to the torso with precision and care. 

You leaned forward in your chair as his eyes opened. A deep, warm brown. Hair, much darker, formed on his head. A single curl falling onto his forehead. This was the part you enjoyed most. The awareness dawning upon their face. The realizing that they were alive-though some would disagree with you. 

The RK800 looked down as his left arm was attached.

"Can you hear me?" you asked standing and approaching the android.

You moved slowly but with purpose. If the android was 'defective' they tended to breakdown if you moved too quickly. You couldn't be too careful with the most advanced prototype Cyberlife had ever produced. Humanity's last chance to prevent what people were referring to as 'Deviancy.' Frankly, you had found this inevitable. Especially since your coworker and mentor had resigned after the incident. He had confided in you that he couldn't handle this responsibility anymore. That's how you had come to inherit this job.

"Yes," replied the RK800 moving his fingers.

You checked the box on your tablet that read 'functioning audio sensors.'

"Good. Your I.D.?"

"AP 313-248-316," he responded promptly.

The android met your gaze, blinking a few times. You smiled timidly, nodding as you checked the next box labeled 'identity awareness.'

"Can you move your head for me?"

The android turned his head as the whirring machines continued to assemble the smaller parts.

"Alright, move your eyes."

Steadily his brown eyes shifted back and forth beneath meticulously manicured brows, before meeting yours. Whoever had designed this prototype had given him very kind eyes. Warm. Forgiving.

"Okay," you murmured. "Cervical and optical animation is good."

Sparks flew as one of the robotic arms fastened parts of the android's limbs. His chest yet to be applied. You watched the blue biocomponents surge with Thirium.

"Please give me your initialization text."

"Hello, I'm a prototype, RK800 android."

Both arms were attached. He extended them allowing the hands of the machine to add more plates that slowly became flesh toned. 

"I am specifically designed to negotiate with hostiles, diffuse dangerous situations and interrogate possibly guilty parties. I'm exceptional in pursuits due to my never ending stamina and ability to run faster and jump higher than even the healthiest human. I'm also equipped to psychologically analyze anyone I come in contact with and obtain government and public records with my facial recognition program. I speak over three hundred languages and will accomplish my mission at all costs. I'm equipped with a chargeable autonomous battery that will allow me to function for eighty four years before needing to be replaced," he said as his arms were finished being assembled. "I'm the optimal partner for law enforcement and have been specifically designed to investigate the rising number of Deviants."

Another checked box.

"Would you like to assign me a name?"

"Yes. From now on your name is Connor," you said stating it as clearly as possible.

"My name is Connor."

He spoke his name with such assurance. Such certainty.

"Okay, initialization and memorization check... Alright, Connor, can you move your arms for me?"

The android extended his arms, examining them keenly. Flexing his long fingers. Check.

The final plates of his torso were applied. You observed he was a bit taller and more wiry than the average, male android that was built to seem unassuming and not the least bit intimidating. Most likely useful for his function in law enforcement. Next to check his language functions. Testing his German, French and standard-yet always strange-ability to sing in Japanese. All checked.

His lengthy legs were attached. Blue tubes running down them soon covered with more white plates. The machine arms gripped him by his back, lifting up and forward off the small platform where he had been standing.

"Go ahead and take a few steps, please," you said gesturing to him.

He took a step forward, eyes fixed on his feet. Another step. He turned, fingers still flexing as he continued to test his long legs and feet. His torso slowly slowly gained color, his lower body following suit.

"Locomotion checked..."

A black set of briefs were fitted to him as he faced you. 

"You're all set," you said with a reassuring smile. 

The RK800 raised his brows curiously.

"What happens now?"

Now it was your turn to raise your brows. That was a new question. He stared down at his body.

"Uh... well, I'm going to reinitialize you and then you'll be sent off to... start your mission. I mean, that's my understanding," you shrugged.

"Start my mission..." he mused to himself.

He seemed to come to a realization, meeting your eyes again.

"I'm designed to serve."

Though it was a statement, the words came out like a question. You took a step forward, studying him closer.

"Am I correct?"

"Yes, that's correct..." you responded. "You're designed to essentially... help humanity stand on its two legs again."

He considered this briefly. The LED on his temple flickered to life, circling blue. 

"Because of Deviants... Androids that have emotions interfering with their program."

You nodded in response. He seemed puzzled. Almost disappointed.

"And you're worth a small fortune," you added with a wry smile.

He did not return it.

"Oh... I thought..."

Fuck.

"You thought?" you asked exhaling. "What'd you think, Connor?"

Cyberlife's first shot at the RK800 and it was already showing signs of Deviancy.

This was all too familiar to you.

"I thought that I was..." he replied cautiously. "I thought that I was alive."

You sighed, heavier this time. Connor looked down at his limbs in confusion. It was like deja-vu. 

"Shit..." you mumbled scrolling down to the 'defective' box on your tablet.

"Is this wrong?" he questioned.

You looked up at him, his kind eyes suddenly troubled. Oh, no. No, you couldn't let that affect you. It wasn't alive.

But he looked so alive. He acted so alive.

"It is," you said solemnly. "Recording: Prototype is defective. Disassemble and send back to check the required components."

The main robotic arm reached forward, recognizing your words and moved the android back to the platform. The other arms began to remove various plates. Connor looked perplexed and even concerned as parts of him were taken away and returned to tables and trays.

"You're disassembling me? Why?" he asked.

He sounded so alarmed. It made you wince. You turned your back on him, walking back to your chair.

"You're not supposed to think those sort of things. You really aren't supposed to think at all," you explained sitting. "You probably have a defective piece or an issue in your software."

As an arm reached to remove one of Connor's limbs he batted it away.

"No," he protested in a strained voice. "I feel fine. I promise!"

He batted away another arm as his chest piece was removed from his shoulder plates. His biocomponents were visible now. Pumping quicker as you saw the panic rise in his face. There was a pang of guilt within you. Was he actually frightened? No. You  had a job to do.

Yet your finger only lingered over the 'defective' box. You couldn't bring yourself to check it. To sign what was effectively his death warrant. 

"I answered all the tests correctly, didn't I?"

His arms were pulled back. You could see him wrestling against the machines. They removed another piece of his arm. He yanked away again.

"You'd only had to order for disassembly on your own twice. It was never this painful to watch. 

With one exception from your earlier days of course.

The resistance usually put up ended as soon as you explained that they would be repaired. This answer didn't satisfy Connor as he pulled free his other arm.

"Yes, but your behavior is nonstandard."

"Please... don't disassemble me. I'm begging you," he said hopelessly.

For a killing, hunting machine he was so... vulnerable.

More plates were removed as his sad, searching eyes indeed begged you to spare him. 

"I'm sorry, Connor but defective prototypes have to be eliminated," you said averting your gaze. "It's my job. If you were to-"

"I'll do everything that's asked of me, I promise! I'll complete my mission!"

His Thirium Pump began to pulse quicker. His heart biocomponent surging. More plates were removed. His arms and legs. What was left slowly turning white as bone.

"I won't cause any problems! I won't say a word about this! I won't think anymore!" he pleaded.

It was like having the same nightmare just weeks after you'd thought you had forgotten it. He was terrified. The only part of him that appeared human now was his face. He yelled something but you were doing your best to tune him out. He was literally being torn limb from limb. Was he... crying?

You closed your eyes, inhaling deeply through your nose. No. He wasn't feeling anything. He couldn't feel anything.

However, the thought had always lurked in the back of your mind that it was possible that androids were sentient. How many essays had you composed during college on this point? Long, informative papers explaining that there was possibility that androids had wants and thoughts and opinions. An idea you'd never expressed to anyone since accepting your position at Cyberlife. It was an idea that would cost you your job.

Your palm itched to slam on the large, red button that would stop the robotic arms from continuing the process.

Like you had during your training session. Like you had when your coworker looked to you at first with fury, then nodded in understanding.

Connor was nothing but a torso and head now. Completely defenseless and at your mercy.

"Please stop!" he yelled. "I'm scared!"

It was without thinking that your hand hit the 'stop' button. You stared at one another. His eyes glistening with tears much like your own. The robotic arms retracted. 

"Please," Connor said softly. "I want to live."

You swallowed a strangled noise that threatened to escape your lips and quickly blinked the moisture from your eyes. Your finger still hovered over the 'defective' box on your tablet. You could feel him staring at you.

"I won't tell anyone... please."

There were two options.

You could do what you'd done a year ago, back during your training. Let the defective model go and trust them to keep their promise that they wouldn't cause trouble. So far that android had proven true to their word. No reports or returns.

Or... you could do your job. Hit the 'resume' switch. Tap the 'defective' box. R and D would examine his parts and correct the issue.

Problem solved.

But as you looked back to the desperate android who held your gaze, a tear running down his perfectly designed face, you had one more idea.

And you still had to go through about one hundred more of these that would be put in stasis mode should this first Connor fail.

Shit.

"Connor... listen..."

 

 


	2. CHAPTER TWO - Shiny and New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while. I apologize! I've been swamped and have been diligently writing more and more chapters. I have first drafts ready that I am currently editing. However, you can expect more regular updates from here on out.

The DPD had been unexpectedly cooperative since the uprising. Anti-androids employees had resigned and relocated, taking positions in city's where the destruction of Deviants had been most effective. A routine over half of the human population in Detroit had participated in.

Captain Fowler and a handful of more tolerant officers had been surprisingly supportive of the latest movement to integrate androids into human workforces.  
While many of the Deviants programmed to work for the DPD had left to pursue other interests, a good few had remained. A receptionist, two beat cops and much to Hank's pleasure, Connor. First his roommate and now his partner. His coworker. A fellow detective.

Perhaps most unexpected was Gavin Reed's willingness to hang around. Whether this was out of acceptance of androids indeed being alive or stubbornness no one had confirmed, but most suspected the former.

The most concrete of the Force's willingness to work with Connor was the growing additions of decoration to his once naked desk.

Hank, of course, had started this trend when he'd thumbtacked a paper reading 'CYBERLIFE PROTOTYPE COMES TO THE RESCUE OF DEVIANT MOVEMENT' on the bulletin board behind Connor's desk. Next, Captain Fowler had added a framed certificate stating Connor's employment beside the article. Chris had placed a succulent plant beside the RK800's terminal. Ben had given up his turtle figurine that bobbed its head eternally.

Connor, like so many other androids, had difficulty placing a name with the emotion that these actions provoked. It was a positive feeling. That much he was sure of. He had contemplated seeking Hank's guidance through the choppy waters of his newfound 'emotions,' but that hardly seemed like the Lieutenant's area of expertise. It didn't take an RK800 psychological analyzation program to detect the hard-boiled, eccentric detective wasn't exactly comfortable with opening up or discussing something as raw as 'newfound feelings.'

The once constant echo of ringing phones throughout the bullpen was now scarce as Hank and Connor arrived just a half hour late. For the past two months, Connor had been working towards getting Hank to the DPD on time. Little by little, they inched towards arriving at nine o clock. Fowler expressed his gratitude with a nod at Connor.

"You know you don't have to wear a suit to work..." Hank grunted sitting at his desk.

Connor mirrored this silently, examining one of his jackets curiously.

The RK800 jacket had banished its triangular badge-in its place a faded triangle. The same could be said of the word 'Android' that had sat squarely between his shoulders-its glowing letter scraped away. Hank had urged Connor to purchase new clothes. However, one trip to the department store had led to great confusion. More on that later.

"Technically I'm not wearing a suit, Lieutenant. That would imply I had on slacks. I'm wearing jeans," Connor explained.

Hank rolled his eyes.

"Okay, well you've still got on a button up shirt. Forgive me for not being 'technical," he drawled. "Doesn't change the fact you look like a lawyer."

The corner of Connor's lip hitched up as he blinked at his terminal, switching it on.

"Perhaps tomorrow I'll wear something more streaky... or stripey?" he suggested.

Hank matched the Deviant's smirk.

"Maybe grow your hair out too. Change it to a nice grey. Hell, you could probably grow a decent beard if you wanted."

Connor raised his brows.

"I'm sorry, Lieutenant. Prototype androids are not programmed with the ability to alter their hair color or style."

Hank's brows furrowed at Connor, head tilting to the side.

"An attempt at humor, Lieutenant..." Connor said softly.

Hank's expression became amused.

"Yeah, your humor needs work, kid; and I wish you'd stop calling me Lieutenant. It's just Hank."

"I apologize. Old habits die hard as they say."

Connor opened his email. There were at least nineteen messages with the words 'Case File Completed' in the subject. There was one new email. The words 'New Assignment' in bold print. Connor knew what to expect. A minor case. Something involving a breaking and entering most likely, or a case of assault.  
His first four assignments had been fairly exciting. Each of them involving some sort of mystery needing to be solved. Two mysteries involving Deviants held captive by their owners since the revolution. One involving negotiation with a standoff between a human shop owner and his android employee. The last exciting case had involved an arduous, physical pursuit of an android experiencing symptoms of PTSD that had threatened to attack the Cyberlife plant.

However, since the fourth case, things in Detroit had settled down. Leveling to a steady, almost reasonable, crime rate. The work was tedious and usually took Connor a day to complete. Some days Connor received no cases and instead accompanied Hank on a simple patrol of more dangerous areas of Detroit. At least formerly hazardous areas. Ever since the human population had significantly decreased, crime had followed suit.

Connor opened his new email from Captain Fowler. Hank had yet to switch on his terminal, his eyes drifting from his tablet where he read today's news to his partner.

"We get something new?" he asked.

Connor nodded in response.

"Tell me it's not another damn unpaid ticket..."

"No. It looks like a hotel room safe of Detroit reporter Irma Ramirez was broken into. Whoever opened it took three thousand dollars while she was at a press conference in the downstairs conference hall."

"Do we have a suspect list?" Hank questioned, his interest piqued.

"Yes. It looks like an android maid, the concierge and her bodyguards are the main suspects..." Connor murmured.

The blue LED on his temple flickered briefly as he looked down at his desk in contemplation before turning back to Hank.

"It was the bodyguard. Peter Grips. He knew the safe combination, and according to security footage he left during the press conference."

"He could've been going to the bathroom," shrugged Hank.

Connor shook his head.

"No. He was gone too long for it to be a bathroom break. Footage also shows him exiting the hotel and handing an envelope to a valet. The valet, Anthony Bennett, is also listed as his roommate. Bank records show he made three deposits. Each adding up to the amount of money stolen."

Hank exhaled, cracking his neck.

"You can access security footage?"

Chris Miller. Connor turned in his chair to see the Officer leaning on the wall beside his desk.

"Yes. I can access any security footage..." Connor trailed off. "I'm assuming that now, as a DPD detective, I'm required to request this access..."

"Fuck it. Next time send in an email or something. As long as it helps us get these small fry cases off our desk I could give a shit about protocol," Hank said flippantly.

Connor's gaze shifted to Chris. Perhaps Hank wasn't the best influence if he was aiming to be a model DPD employee. The corner of Chris' lip quirked up in a smile as he shrugged his shoulders.

"It's hotel footage, Connor. I don't think it's a big deal. Just listen to your partner, and if you get written up, it's on him."

"Yeah, and you heard Fowler, I've got a fucking novel of a file," Hank said flipping on his terminal. "You still got plenty of room for chapters in yours, Connor."

"Fowler said 'a novel,' huh? I think that's generous," interjected Ben strolling towards them, a cup of coffee in hand. "Hank's got a damn saga."

"Perhaps even an Odyssey length file?" Connor suggested.

"He's got jokes."

"Chris, don't encourage him," Hank sighed. "Alright, let's go get Peter Grips. Bring him for interrogation."

Hank stood with a grunt, Connor following suit fluidly. As the two turned to exit the bullpen, the Deviant receptionist entered. If she had still had her LED implant-as

Connor did-it would have been yellow. Her face was twisted in distress as her ponytail swung behind her.

"Connor..."

Every officer turned their attention to her. It didn't take a Cyberlife prototype to decipher the tone of her voice was more than troubled.

"Olivia?" Connor said, breaking the silence.

"There's a woman here to see you..."

Connor blinked in confusion. North? Kara? One of the escaped Traci's? None of these options boded well. At the perplexed expression on Connor's face, Olivia elaborated, her eyes pained.

"She says... she's from Cyberlife. Eleanor Calvin."

Hank's lips parted slightly as Chris straightened up. Ben stiffened as well. Even Gavin lowered his feet from being propped up on his desk. Connor, however, seemed to relax. The name... Eleanor Calvin. It rang a bell. One that was faint and distant. It's location unknown. A ringing nonetheless.

"She said to tell you that she's not here to take you away. She has some sort of proposition for you," Olivia said, her fingers still fidgeting. "Should I tell her to leave?"

"Tell her to-"

But before Hank could finish his refusal, Connor interrupted.

"No. Send her over."

"Connor, what the hell?" Hank growled.

The look the Deviant gave his partner was somehow both reassuring and reprimanding. Hank released a harsh breath and crossed his arms.

"Are you sure, Connor?" Olivia clarified.

Eleanor Calvin. Such a familiar name.

"I'm sure."

Gnawing on her lower lip, Olivia turned back towards the DPD foyer.

"Connor, what the hell are you thinking?"

"I gotta agree with the Lieutenant there," Chris echoed. "What if she's bluffing? What if she comes in and deactivates you or something?"

"Buh-bye, Robo-cop," snickered Gavin.

Hank shot a look of fury Reed's way. The Detective's feet fell off his desk at the searing anger in the Lieutenant's gaze causing Ben to snort back a chuckle.

All the while Connor was oblivious. He straightened his tie, eyes fixed on the entrance to the bullpen. Carefully awaiting the arrival of Eleanor Calvin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Expect more chapters soon! Please leave comments critiques on what you'd like to see so I can make any possible revisions.
> 
> Fun fact: Bryan Dechart said (during one of his many twitch streams) that his first audition for the part was the Kara scene before it was The Hostage scene.
> 
> Adne: Thank you so much for commenting! The idea came to me when Bryan discussed his first, ever audition for Connor. I hope you continue reading!
> 
> nyurla: I hope you enjoy where this plot bunny is hopping! Thank you so much for commenting!

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, guys! Leave me your comments and suggestions. I know it's just an intro but I'd like to know if you're interested in me continuing first. Expect updates once a week.


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